Harold, Tiger Moth and the Spitfire
by bbll22
Summary: When a visiting Spitfire comes to Dryaw Air Field, he unintentionally creates a rift between Harold and Tiger Moth who want to be the Spitfire's favourite. Will the rift be fixed between Harold and Tiger Moth and who is the Spitfire's favourite?


Lee's Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends

Stories

**Harold, Tiger Moth and the Spitfire**

It was an extremely foggy morning at Dryaw Air field and Tiger Moth was waking up to the noise of Harold's helicopter blades whirring loudly.  
"Oi!" called Tiger Moth. "I'm trying to sleep!"  
"I am sorry..." replied Harold in his very British accent. "But I have been told that the fog may deny our visitor from landing here very soon..."  
"Visitor?" questioned Tiger Moth. "What visitor?"  
"I don't know..." replied Harold. "Sir Topham Hatt won't let me know...and now we may never know who the visitor is because of this fog..." he continued. "It's a real shame..."  
"Indeed" agreed Tiger Moth who slowly went back off to sleep leaving Harold all on his own and with no-one to talk to.  
"I hope the fog clears soon..." muttered Harold to himself. "I miss being up in the sky without a care in the world."

The fog was still around Dryaw as the time reached Midday, but the waiting couldn't go on any longer, the visitor had to land regardless of how dangerous the conditions might have been. Lights were turned on all around the air field and the small runway was glowing bright yellow with all the lights on display. Tiger Moth was still to tired to be interested in what was happening, but he kept thinking who the special visitor must be.  
"If their landing here, its got to be someone special, and something who likes Air fields..." he said to himself, but Harold overheard.  
"All I know is that they are special indeed. It hasn't narrowed down the options has it?" he replied.  
"Indeed" said Tiger Moth just before he and Harold heard men around them shouting to each other.  
"He's coming in! He's coming to land shortly!" they cried. Harold and Tiger Moth looked and as in the distance they could see a light in the sky, it twinkled brightly and it meant the visitor was arriving very soon. Then, the propeller noise of the visitor got louder and Tiger Moth was happy indeed as he could just make out the outline of the visitor.  
"It's a Plane! Ha Ha Harold! No Helicopter for you!" he said so cheerily and his smile was wide open.  
"Oh..." said Harold whose smile disappeared instantly as the propeller noise got louder and the plane was ready to land.  
"Come on!" cried the men. "Almost here!" and the visitor then landed without any problems at all. Its wheels squeaked on the small runway, but that was it. There were no issues at all and the men clapped proudly as the visitor turned round on the runway to see Harold and Tiger Moth.  
"Hello..." called the visitor.  
"Hello..." replied Harold and Tiger Moth in unison at the point where they realised what the special visitor was. Neither of them could believe it.

"You're...you're...a Spitfire!" cried Tiger Moth who was very shocked indeed. Harold just looked very jealous at this point.

"Indeed I am a Spitfire..." replied the visitor. "You can call me Sergeant...there's no need to treat me differently to anyone else that has visited here before." he continued in an extremely posh voice, which was even posher than Harold's.  
"I assume your flight here was of good standard?" asked Harold who was trying to be as friendly as possible.  
"It was indeed. The fog was no issue at all for me, and might I say, what a wonderful Air field you have here, it is truly splendid!" replied Sergeant who was grinning a lot at Tiger Moth and Harold. Both of them had reacted differently, but as the fog was clearing, Sergeant would find out he'd caused a bit of rivalry between Tiger Moth and Harold at Dryaw.

Sergeant's visit to Sodor was underway and he flew around the Island to land and meet as many people as he could, but while this was happening, Tiger Moth and Harold were discussing who was Sergeant's favourite.  
"Well it's clearly me!" said Harold boastfully.  
"Pah!" called Tiger Moth. "Since when are Spitfires and Helicopters friends? It's obvious I'm his favourite. I'm a plane, he's a plane, were friends instantly!"  
"What logic is that?" asked Harold with frustration. "I'm obviously his favourite, I'm posh and he's posh. Everyone posh is instantly a friend with one another, fact!"  
"Highly unlikely..." retorted Tiger Moth. "Being posh isn't the be all and end all of the existing and making friends, its identifying with similar characters in life. I'm similar, and that's that!" The argument carried on for a good while and Sergeant was just returning to land at Dryaw when he overheard the arguing.  
"Oh dear..." he sighed to himself. "Not again! Everywhere I go this always happens! I must sort this out..." and when he landed he immediately went to have a word with them, but they wouldn't speak to him unless he declared who was his favourite.  
"I'm not talking again until you tell us!" said Tiger Moth.  
"The same applies with me..." added in Harold. Poor Sergeant didn't want to decide and so he let the silence continue until one of them broke it as he'd already gotten used to the fact both of them likes their own voice. The silence was awkward and it was noticeable that Tiger Moth and Harold were so eager to talk, and then they did.  
"Sergeant!" they both cried. "Who is your favourite?" they then both asked once more. Sergeant stood silent and just did his grin again. Harold got annoyed very quickly.  
"Why isn't there any work for me?" he then moaned.  
"No-one wants to be saved by you..." said Tiger Moth. "Their being careful for that reason!" he then added.  
"There's no need to be mean like that!" retorted Harold.  
"Oh there is!" laughed Tiger Moth. "It's so funny to see you angry!" Sergeant was quickly losing his patience as the pair carried on arguing once more about the most insignificant of things.  
"Grass has to be soft!" called Harold.

"It's got to be firm!" retorted Tiger Moth. "There's no point in soft grass when landing, your wheels wont grip!"  
"Well you've got Clown wheels!" replied Harold. "You need firm grass, the grass doesn't need you!"  
"OH, JUST BE QUIET!" called Sergeant whose patience was well and truly lost now. "If I knew I was going to cause this much trouble, I would never have come here!" Harold and Tiger Moth then felt completely silent and looked very embarrassed.  
"I'm sorry..." said Harold.  
"Me too..." agreed Tiger Moth.  
"Good..." replied Sergeant simply. "If you two are going to bicker like this on a regular basis, I think I might have to stay a little longer so that you can learn to respect each other once more. Sergeant, its in the name, I'm born to lead, and you two are nowhere in comparison to me..." Harold and Tiger Moth then listened intently as Sergeant carried on his speech right into the evening.

Nightfall had come, and Sergeant was relieved that progressed had been made. Harold and Tiger Moth weren't arguing anymore, and peace was back at Dryaw.  
"Much better..." said Sergeant. "I can actually hear myself think once more!" Harold felt silly for what had happened as did Tiger Moth, but they still wanted to know who was Sergeant's favourite of the two of them. They asked with caution.  
"Sergeant, we know you didn't want us to ask again, but who was your favourite of us two?" asked Harold nervously as Tiger Moth looked on.  
"Well..." deliberated Sergeant. "Since you asked really nicely this time, I suppose I will answer, and my favourite of you two is..." the wait for his answer seemed like an eternity and Harold and Tiger Moth looked on unsure about who he'd say, and then Sergeant revealed his answer. "Neither of you!" he said simply. "I'm not a great fan of Helicopters, and a posh one like you Harold is just too much, and a bright Yellow and Red Bi-Plane like you Tiger Moth, oh please, that is just showing off!" Tiger Moth and Harold were shocked, but were silent and as it was time to sleep, the cold chill in the air reflected the mood at Dryaw. Cold, bitter and really annoying.


End file.
